


The Quiet Before a Storm of Fire

by HazelGatoya



Series: My Constant State of Pitying Alphonse [7]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: A very unreliable look at mechanics, Arvis is mentioned a few times, Atmosphere changes, Establishing a bit of a timeline for the series, Gen, Illness, Mention of events in FE4, This is what happens during a transitory period
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24801010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelGatoya/pseuds/HazelGatoya
Summary: Many Heroes in the castle suddenly regain conditions that they brought with them and were banished by Kiran when they first arrived. They're assured that said conditions will wear off, but the Heroes of course still worry. Seliph is one of the Heroes that turn up sick.
Relationships: Anthiese | Celica/Levn | Lewyn
Series: My Constant State of Pitying Alphonse [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667644
Kudos: 7





	The Quiet Before a Storm of Fire

Sigurd hurried into the room, making Nanna startle upward and getting the attention of the two in the bunk above the one she had been leaning over. Sigurd moved over to that bunk, pausing when he saw that his son's eyes were closed, face definitely flushed red enough for him to tell that the fever was a serious one. "Do we have any idea what caused this?" he asked quietly.

"Heroes don't get sick unless they carried something with them from the world they came from," Lewyn rasped from his bunk, slumped slightly on the wood. He also looked terrible, pain written across his pale face and knuckles on the hand clenched around said wood a stark white. "And I'm not going to even pretend I know what's going on here, Sigurd, he's more likely to tell you about the future than he is me."

"Stop straining yourself," Celica told the wind mage softly, and Lewyn huffed, slumping onto his bunk, his hand moving into hers instead of gripping the wood.

Seliph's eyelids flickered, opening as he stirred and looked towards Sigurd. "...Father?" he mumbled, squinting a bit.

"Son." Sigurd took the boy's gloved hand, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I'm here for as long as you need me... these should probably come off, though."

"Probably," Seliph murmured, and Nanna nodded her agreement. His white headband was already twisted around her fingers, replaced with a damp cloth. Sigurd carefully removed the gloves, frowning at the mottled red scars on his son's right hand that were obviously from burns. "...There's a picture of you in Castle Chalphy," Seliph continued, voice still quiet and slightly hoarse. "I think someone told me that grandfather had it painted while you were in... Silesse."

"I would imagine that's when it happened," Sigurd confirmed. "Since I don't remember sitting for a portrait. It generally doesn't happen until you're the head of the house. You don't remember who told you?"

Seliph seemed to think back for a moment, eyes going more distant, and Nanna bowed slightly. "I don't think there's much I can do other than distract him from his discomfort and try to help him sleep," she murmured. "And you are more likely to be successful at both of those than I am."

"Uncle Arvis told me when I asked," Seliph responded slowly, carefully, seeming to not hear Nanna at all. Sigurd nodded to her, and she walked out of the room, quietly closing the door. "Right. It was... a while back. So long ago, in the war against Embla, before Prince Lyon even arrived." He closed his eyes, brow furrowed. "I thought it happened back in Jugdral, but that doesn't make sense. We wouldn't have talked about that, and the four in the army were _with_ you in Silesse and that isn't something that came up during that talk..."

"Prince Lyon has been here for a very long time, I'm not surprised you're struggling to remember." Sigurd studied the scars on the hand he wasn't holding again with a small frown. Recognizing the grooves with a small jolt. "Seliph, these look like Tyrfing's hilt."

"Oh." Seliph stirred again, eyes opening. "I forgot you haven't seen those yet. I hit Valflame with Tyrfing, got burned for it, but it needed to happen."

Sigurd stared at him, and then reached up to carefully adjust the cold cloth that was beginning to fall off of his forehead. "I thought that when you asked me if I would be proud when you killed Arvis that it was... well, something that was going to happen. But Heroes don't scar."

"Don't scar, don't get sick unless they carry it from their world," Seliph recited with a soft hum, his blue eyes still distant. "Time is shifting, though. We're entering a new phase of things. That's why the old... issues are coming back." He coughed a couple of times, his hand tightening on Sigurd's. "The undying flame is finally coming... Princess Fjorm will have her fight soon enough."

Sigurd took a breath to ask what he meant, but he could see that Seliph's eyes were closing again... and he knew that sleep was hard for his son to catch at times. So he remained quiet while the boy's breathing evened out.

He was still so young. When Sigurd had been eighteen, he'd been at the Academy, studying with Eldigan and Quan. Seliph was eighteen and he was leading a crusade against his own flesh and blood. Had already done most of it, if he had in fact already killed Arvis in his world, which was odd to think about considering how well he got along with the Arvis here. Sigurd couldn't say that his story ended well, he knew what was coming the moment that Deirdre had been convinced to turn her back on him and Arvis raised his hand with no mercy in those dark brown eyes. His summoning in that moment had only postponed the inevitable. But gods, he had led a happier life than his son, and that thought made his chest ache.

In the bunk above them, there was a soft breath. "He means Surtr, doesn't he?" Celica asked quietly. "He mentioned Fjorm specifically, which likely means we're finally moving-"

"Into Muspell," Lewyn finished with a bit of a wheezing laugh. "Ah... things are going to get interesting in the upper factions. Kiran did warn me about this happening when priorities changed, they just weren't very specific about what those were."

"Priorities." Celica seemed to be tasting the word. "We _did_ just find out what happened to Prince Bruno, and the war with Embla is a stalemate. I suppose "changing priorities" is one way to describe introducing an entirely new enemy. But it will wear off pretty soon, if that's the case?"

"Mmhm." Lewyn sighed softly, settling back against the bed again. "Will probably be gone by morning, just... have to wait it out until then." A pause. "Sigurd, if he wakes up again, you should probably move him to your room. I'm sure Deirdre and Shannan are worried sick as well."

"If he wakes up again, then that's a good idea," Sigurd agreed quietly. "You doing alright up there?"

"I should probably get used to feeling like I'm dying with as much as I do it," Lewyn snorted before his tone softened. "I'll be fine, Sigurd. Thanks for the concern."

"You should be sleeping too." Celica clicked her tongue. "And not waking up Seliph."

"Shh." But it was the last cheeky remark before the room fell silent and Sigurd found himself stroking his son's hand, feeling like he was sitting in a war tent in Silesse once again, just waiting for the next fight. A feeling that had faded during his time here in Askr but had just come back in full force.

War truly was all-encompassing and constant, wasn't it?


End file.
